World Warriors
by Backdraft
Summary: Conclusion: When one is drawn to its humanity, while the other bathes in darkness, the way to victory lies within the only thing they share. Rated for violent and supernatural imagery. Please RR, and my apologies for the delay.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Notes: After too many years of writing slumber, I'm finally back! Music production, work, and all the other things in-between make it all seem a little too hard to get all those idea on the screen again. What motivated me back (aside from constant "When are you gonna' write again"-type questions) is unknown, but I know I have some unfinished business here. Hopefully we'll see some of it finished off, but until then, enjoy part one of this short story. Please R + R :)

Disclaimer: the very title Devil May Cry, Trish, and Dante, all belong to Capcom. Why? Because I was too lazy to copy write a similar idea I had before PS2 was a rumor! LOL.

"The only weapons you will bring are that which lie in your veins and soul. Cowards and the foolish would dare bring otherwise."

It was the best translation Trish could give him, considering the Japanese characters ran into each other within the fire that forged them upon their doorstep. It was no ordinary fire, as it lit the street with white and shades of purple and red, but in a lifestyle that proved most humans to be as ambitious as demons, they had nothing but theories. To the side of it, questionably untouched by the flames, was a painting of where the messenger apparently wanted him to have their meeting. It, too, bore a style similar to that of traditional Japanese art, complete with kanji of its location, distance, and name.

Shirakami was the only name given for the location. Even when they had toured the Asian continents for a month long case, they had never heard of such an area, but it didn't matter to the message's recipient. Perhaps this related to the old job, and someone didn't want to stay buried, as most case studies have done for the growing staff at Devil May Cry. This, however, didn't seem similar to the style of the clan they dealt with, the now defunct Heaven Senders. Being accustomed to their "shoot first, give message second" technique, it would almost rule them out, had it not been for another symbol that lied separate to the main message, being kanji that he knew too well as the symbol for "Heaven."

"So you're going," she asked, preparing a new jacket for him, fitted with a concealed weapon.

"It'd seem so, wouldn't it," he asked, "the person put enough effort and flair behind the message, might as well humor 'em and get it over with."

"Dante," Trish solemnly began, "something doesn't feel right about this. Besides, it didn't say you couldn't come alone."

"Noted," he replied, "but even backup can be considered a tertiary weapon. Lemme' play fair for once, huh?"

He then questioned the single or combined company of Beowulf and Ifrit, contradicting gauntlets of light and hellfire that had passed on most of its own power and skills to him anyway, but Dante would've felt better knowing they were at the ready. This time, though, he'd have to hold back the urge.

"Besides," he continued, "I'm not in the market of getting anyone else hurt because I'm the desired target. Again."

He walked outside, ignoring Trish who held out his loaded jacket for him to take.

"The help's appreciated," he said, stuffing his black vest with white and green vials of energy, "but I'm doing this their way. Even if it's an ambush, they should know better by now."

"That's what I'm scared of," Trish sternly revealed. " 'They' could be anyone. You'll have to understand that no matter how powerful we become, someday…"

Dante approached her with a hug to comfort her fears away, feeling in between them the gun hidden in the jacket.

"I knew you'd do something like that," he said, as he slowly formed his scarred, haunting wings. He then walked backwards, with pure white eyes staring down the splitting image of his late mother.

"When I'm done, I'll bring you back something cool," he said with a smile, that even though it warmed Trish, it almost frightened her to wonder if this was the last time they'd ever meet. Why she even thought that way was beyond her, but as Dante flew off into the unknown without further words, her fears grew along with the inextinguishable flames of the symbols.

Shirakami turned out to be a mountainous land in Japan's northeastern area. Far off from any cities, this serene land seemed too gorgeous for even a battle to take place, even as the sun was setting over the land. As Dante touched down near a river cutting through a grassy field, he could almost feel the same stigma within the land as he did from the kanji back home. It was as if the natural beauty of the terrain were a lie, covering an ancient benevolent miasma that damned those who dared to rid the world of its existence. He searched the immediate area, seeing not an animal nor hearing a sound aside from the rushing waters, and wondered if the emcee of this gathering was either running late, or running away.

"You know, this is the first time someone who's called me out chickened out before I even got to see 'em," Dante spoke aloud. "It's a shame, but at least now Trish doesn't have to---."

He could hear a heart beat echoing once, as the scenery changed to an inverted discoloration, and back to normal in an instant. His senses were raised and attentive now, for this could be either an effect of the forest's energy, or the host's influence onto the immediate playing field. It happened once more, only now, Dante saw someone in the distance, standing firm and stolid, so it seemed. Not wanting to waste time, Dante jumped closer to the distant figure, and upon landing, he got a clearer image of the man that could only be the host of tonight's festivities.

The man's skin was a dark brown, yet it seemed to illuminate his area with demonic ferocity, a kind that matched his strong, bestial face that harbored crimson eyes and sharp, boorish teeth, growling at his guest as a dog would to an intruder. He had spiked hair that had the same color as fire, a large rosary wrapped around his neck, and his clothing, a dark blue gi that had been torn and ravaged through time, moved as if by a mystic wind that the man conjured up himself. The very wind seemed to overtake the entire field now, blowing Dante's hair to the side, but never losing focus on the half-breed.

"You must be the guy," Dante began, "I expected more of an entrance, but you don't look like the audience-friendly type, anyway."

"You, too, are a half-breed," the man bellowed, "one that seems perfect for a challenge, if not…worth my time."

Dante rolled his eyes, "So, what's the big delay, for? We're not getting any younger, though you may be a thousand years too late for some beauty sleep."

With those words, the demon disappeared before his eyes, alarming Dante as he quickly got into a fighting stance. A split second premonition forced him to jump backwards, as the demon man dove from the sky at blinding speed, failing to hit the target with a single blow. As he regained his footing, Dante took notice of the dirt and water that flew upwards from the gaping crater such an attack left behind, and took notice that it would've been a solid chop to the back of his spine.

Before the demon turned around, Dante recognized a symbol on the back of his gi from earlier, that being the "heaven" or "afterlife" symbol. It was enough to convince Dante that this was the man who called out his presence. For once, though, it was not in the name of his or his father's past deeds of heroism. Now it was just to fight, to see between two unlikely combatants, who would bow down to whom. Devoid of interruptions, an innermost desired, unhinged mortal combat began.


	2. Chapter 2

Already, it was confirmed that whoever this monster was, he was clearly faster than the young hunter, but the fact was proven further as he leapt towards Dante with a roundhouse kick that he perfectly blocked with his forearm by mere chance. The power behind it pushed him back a few inches, but it was the pain that stunned him long enough for the demon to quickly follow through with a short lunging punch to his face. Dante twisted around once, before he saw the man coming at him once more, only now he was more focused to dodge the attack, and land a few shots to his opponent's stomach, followed by a flip kick to his jaw. Halfway into his landing, Dante watched as the demon' s fist charged into his face, not aware that he had driven the strength of the punch by jumping with it.

The demon already landed on his bare feet, as he watched his prey fall on his back, only to get up much faster than expected. Despite the pain he had felt from such a forceful shot, it was if Dante's face remained unscathed.

"Nice hit," he complimented, not minding the ache, "but I've fought imps that pack more effort."

The insult seemed to go over his head, but the assassin still saw an opening that his bloodlust would not be denied. He dashed again, and fired both fists into Dante's chest, forcing him further away, and closer to the forests. His body dug into the dirt in the last few seconds of travel, slowing him down and allowing him to regain his composure, but only in enough time to see what had to be the demon in the sky, and twelve spheres of purple light surrounding him, and growing larger by the second. He realized what they were now, as he dodged each blast of fire that rained towards his direction, though with each one he had avoided, the next became more accurate, as if the demon anticipated his every move.

The final three fireballs forced its target to stand his ground, as they had come too fast for him to clearly parry. It was final that felt to be the most powerful, as Dante's arms were crossed over his face, clenching his teeth and tensing his body to release what devil energy he could to prevent direct contact, before breaking the demonic projectile in half. Blinded by the light of the multiple flames, Dante failed to see the demon come downward and kick him in the chest, forcing him back onto the ground.

The demon landed to earth once again, admiring the effort the young half-ling portrayed, as his red eyes watched him surrounded by fire from the missed shots, lighting up the darkening sky. The aura he could sense from the half-ling was now weak, but only in comparison to what he knew lied within him. It was power that he desired and thirsted for, both in a combatant, as well as general combat itself. He had fought so many unlike this being, who could proved to be as formidable as another he had yet to see again, dressed much like himself, only with a white gi, and human. He'd fight that Japanese male once again, given that Dante didn't find the inner power to outright kill this being, which if had his usual array of armaments and trickery, he'd have more than just the means to.

"I'm taking a wild guess," began the half-ling, "you wanna' get to me 'cause my dear ol' dad's not around to get revenge on, don't 'cha? Well I'm gonna' tell you what I've told everyone I've put down and back to Hell because of that…get in line!"

The demon grunted with his heaving chest, but his face remained emotionless as he replied, "The passage of your father's sins to you is not of my concern, nor are the relics of his time."

He took one step closer to him, enough to make Dante slide his foot back, and enter a defensive stance. Though he sensed bravado in his target, the demon knew now that a part of him was, perhaps, scared.

"The power bestowed upon you, however…show me its limits."

"Is that all you want," Dante hissed. He closed his eyes and fists, as a white aura became visible to the assassin. His breathing became calm and controlled, and upon opening his eyes, a deeper crimson than his assailants' own, Dante had seen the transformation of his outer appearance take place. Only his hands, legs, and torso had taken the oblique form of his devil side. The demon approved at his renewed level of vigor and resilience, animating his face with a mere smirk to his right cheek.

"Very well, then," he spoke, stretching his legs into a bridging stance, his foot slamming to the ground to shake the earth. "No one has ever fought me and not either lived or feared my name."

_Author's Note: Thanks for reading :) This was either going to be a really long chapter, or keep the best of it all for later by cutting this chapter in half. Trust me, things get sick after this, so get ready :) By the way, has anyone guessed who Dante's been fighting this whole time? The clues are there, but there's two more that I can think of to give, and one of them is just saying his name, lol._


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Yeah, it's been that long since I've been writing, and I forgot about the disclaimer, as if it's needed. Dante and Trish are Capcom's property, as is this other guy…but since I haven't said him by name, so far I'm safe. Doesn't mean I'm claiming him to myself altogether. Besides, one person has figured out who it is. Good work :)_

Dante pulled the demon's trick by disappearing before his eyes, but reemerging close enough for consecutive punches to the demon's face and chest. Though the demon returned a few attacks of his own, it wasn't enough to stop the hunter from finishing off with one hand releasing a charged blast of fire throughout his entire upper body, an ignition that lasted five seconds strong. The transforming devil hunter stepped back in hopes to have gotten his point across, that he wanted the fight over with by any means, but he also knew better than to believe such a simple move could kill someone of this caliber. His theory proved correct, as the smoke cleared and revealed the demon's top half of his gi scorched away, yet his rosary and red hair seemed untouched. His entire shell, though, emanated steam from the blast, but whether or not he was in minor or excruciating pain would remain his knowledge alone.

The demon's face became fully animate now, as it formed an insidious smile before he dashed at the half-ling once more, with both fists at the ready. Dante hopped off the ground to spin into a forceful kick towards his face, only to have it blocked and countered by a strong hook to his stomach, and quickly followed by another jumping uppercut to his jaw, only now the demon's fist was engulfed in the same purple fire that lied at the hunter's doorsteps before. The demon was at an angle with Dante that easily gave him the next move, as he ax kicked him to the ground by targeting his ribs. Dante's body landed on the ground with enough might to cause the dirt to rise high, concealing his self to the watchful eyes of the falling demon, now swollen in an equal level of pain and impatience.

Another fireball was shot where the half-ling supposedly lied, as it cut through the smoke and dust, coming in contact with only the ground. More dust and smoke was born from the act, leaving the demon bewildered as to his opponent's location. Since he had already stolen an idea of his, the demon figured he would come from above like he attempted to him. Though not as potent as the other before it, he charged and fired a shot into the air, but only in vain. Grunting at his carelessness, he then noticed a faint presence in the clearing smoke, yet could not see any physical form towards it.

A flash of red eyes in the smoke teased the demon, just before twin blades of energy cut through the air and pierced his chest, which formed an X over his being. The second the attack ended, Dante had flown out of the smoke, fully transformed, with wings that swiftly carried him towards his target, causing a quick and vicious punch at the center of the X-shaped cut. The demon now revealed his threshold for pain was either finally broken, or was for some time, but he wasn't drained of his desire for endless combat. As he swung at Dante, the hunter blocked the assault with his jagged gauntlet for a forearm, breaking the assassin's skin, and pulled down his arm to tear at the demon's own. With an open palm, the hunter finally drove his hand towards the bottom of the demon's nose for a fatal shot to travel towards his brain.

From there, it was as if time itself had slowed down, as the demon's body fell to the earth yet again, though now on its back with a deafening thud. Dante stood over him, wishing it wasn't so easy to take down someone with such ancient benevolence driving him, but on the other hand, he was glad that he only had to resort to this demonic form, and not a phase that he had only experienced once so far.

"So much for fearing your name, huh," Dante gloated, "you didn't even live long enough to say it." He turned his back on the corpse and flew off, taking with him the memory of this night, and the discovery of how far he would've gone to defeat a man that had seemingly sold his soul for power, only to meet his end by a greater form of it. He had never met someone so dedicated to such a variable and unpredictable thing as power, unless he was truly the type dedicated to the fight, and nothing more. It was then, Dante smiled, realizing that he had promised Trish that he's bring her back something cool, but something inside told him that she'd be satisfied with his triumphant, yet bruised return.

_Bad enough she looks like mom, _thought Dante,_ sometimes she damn near acts like her. Just so long as she doesn't chase me out the office 'cause I left behind my lunchbox. _

The very thought was enough for the hunter to laugh aloud, before he blacked out and fell to the ground, the demon crouched on his back, riding the unconscious half-ling to a deadly descent.

_To be concluded…_


	4. Chapter 4

A translucent haze is all he could see as he stared into the dark sky, as if he were slowly going blind while the heat waves made it less visible once his head turned to its side. Once he was able to recognize his entire body, the true pain had set in from all that had passed, as the muscles ached with such intensity, he was sure that more than just battle scars and bruises had occurred. He dared to turn to his right side, groaning as he did so, but fought through it to land on his stomach.

Not wanting to breath in any more dirt than he already had, the young hybrid positioned his beaten arms to push him upwards, only to fall back down and face the earth once again. Though his powers would have been enough to heal him to a point, he was now sapped, and his supply of energy enhancements were exhausted, lost in battle, or broken before they could be used. If the demon were still in the area, it'd be the least of his problems.

Now, the fire that had once been small tufts had become a fury towards the once beautiful landscape, creeping its way to a living, breathing casualty, who would find the strength once again to rise to his feet, and try to walk to where the fire wouldn't reach him until he was ready. It was on his feet, that he saw the culprit, standing in the fire as if he were born from it, with a strong stance as if all he had done to him was in his imagination.

Dante saw the creature raise his arm into what appeared to be a guarded position, but when it extended, something flew threw the air in his direction. He caught the item, and though felt what it was, couldn't believe that someone out to kill him would offer such a possible trump card. Dante looked at the item, as it was the last of his supply of white fluid he used to regenerate his powers, but not his physical ailments.

"You know what this'll do, right," Dante groaned as loud as he could.

"You have proven yourself many times over to me," the demon bellowed. "Few mortals have lived coming from the world my hands have taken them. Not all can only dream to be like us, the heretical union of Hell and Man. We are the same, you and I, and we are not alone."

Dante spat on the ground at his claim, as he clarified, "The only thing we have in common is that our fashion sense ain't getting' us into the club. Quit stallin', asshat. Stop boring me and finish the job…if you can."

The demon grunted into a laugh, as the enveloping fire then separated and revealed the monster, his skin bloodied and torn as Dante's. It was as if he had given up hiding all that the young half-breed had worked for, while cursing himself for underestimating the rage of a man driven to survive, not just to fight. He stared down the platinum blonde hunter, while he looked back at him, as his powers resurrected, clearly faster than his health. They saw in each other's glowing eyes that whatever was to occur next, would be the start of a final assault, and in each of their minds, they saw themselves walking away the winner.

The demon revealed the extent of his blinding speed, appearing closer to Dante, but was far from out of his image before the hunter was stuck once more from behind, which had just begun to heal. Though his screams overwhelmed his senses, Dante quickly turned around in time to see the next attack, as the demon charged a left handed side chop from behind himself. He ducked under the maneuver while igniting the holy, though latent power passed on from Beowulf into a single punch that connected with the entire left side of the demon's face. The vivid flash alone blinded the fighters, but it was the demon that had to face not jus the pain, but the sudden erratic move passionately brought to his attention.

"**How did you possess such light, knowing what you are," **the demon screamed, feeling the holy energy crawl in his wound like acid.

Dante answered with consecutive attacks covered within the same energy, so that the assassin could be blessed with the vengeful force of whichever spirits were on his side at that moment. The next punch Dante was hell-bent to deliver was suddenly cut short by a powerful kidney shot the demon managed to throw, even with his vision still impaired. He didn't even land on his knees yet, before the demon went to work on his face with as much strength as he could, before loading up one last shot that was determined to simulate Dante's divine technique from before. The punch made its home onto Dante's right side, sending him to the ground once again in a harrowing and vulnerable position. The fiend heaved his chest, for he had not felt this level of pain before, and it was undoubtedly due to the saintly wrath that poisoned his once tough body.

"**As I mentioned before," **the demon bellowed,** "you've proven yourself worthy of my respect. But now, you've proven yourself to be more than just a stranger of equal interests and milieu. You are a threat to my existence, and a stain to those that would rather embrace their demonic fortune, than to squander such power to favor whatever god you wish. You must be cleansed." **

The fire that danced along the grassy plain was taken by a sudden gust of frigid wind that encircled the very spot the demon stood, who had his arms in front of him with fists clenched and his broken face again still. Dante saw his approach, aware that as the wind grew colder from the spirits that the demon had summoned, and his aura grew a darker red during his travel, he could soon meet death in a way he would have never predicted. The closer the demon came, the more Dante could hear him muttering a repeated sentence in a Japanese tongue, but of the little he picked up from his previous dealings here, the only words he could decipher with certainty were "hell", "raging", and "murder". The wind grew stronger and colder, the spirits more audible and bloodthirsty, and the demon's face became that of hideous bliss. Dante, knowing that the moment was long overdue, looked at his assassin one last time, before closed his eyes and clenched his fists, thanking the gods that the assailant fell for his trap.

The very move that he would have done to the young half-breed required all of his strength, which would've been fatal if said move were to make contact. Instead, a focused left uppercut to the demon's chin made him rise off the ground unconsciously, the lifeless beast open for something definitive.

_If this fight lasts any longer… _

Dante didn't want to finish the thought, as the last of his power was summoned in a similar matter than what the assassin had prepared for him. As best as he could, he took his mind off the pain, leapt towards his target while transforming into a more hideous winged threat, and ascended but so far into the air. Dante, or at least the hardened mutant shell that encapsulated him, held his mark with one hand at his throat, as he watched the left of his face still had acidic retort to the pious attack. As he curled his arm to bring the demon inward, his wings wrapped around him, as the flames from below began to distort and disappear, so did the very environment, transforming within an imperceptible sphere of energy of which Dante was its nucleus.

The distortion grew more intense, nearly quaking what wasn't affected by the sphere, as the demon began to awaken once more, only now to the sight of someone that looked and felt nothing like the man he had fought. He was something more, now, flowing with a power that only avatars to a greater presence could feel. Before the assassin could even raise his hand to attempt to break the hold, everything turned discolored, and faded into a white haze that was neither welcoming, nor wraithlike.

_Trish, it's me, again. I was just calling up and…well, you know why. I was seeing if you're back from the search. I still haven't heard from 'em, myself, an' Enzo an' the others aren't getting any luck, either. Look, I don't wanna' run on, here…just call me when you get home, okay? Bye. _

"So how many does that make," Dante asked, well rested in his desk chair.

Trish laughed evenly, "That's the fifth from her, but eighteen total. Some of the cases are probably too late to even care about."

"Well, at least of the ones that sounded legitimate, I'm sure a few still got some life in 'em," an ecstatic Dante replied, rising from his chair and taking a new coat off a nearby sword handle embedded in the wall, in the guise of a makeshift coat rack. "Besides, I've had enough rest."

"Knocked out for three days in a foreign land, barely clothed and bruised to holy hell," Trish humorously recalled his story, "if any locals found you first, you'd have been written off as a college boy left behind on a class trip. But what about that guy?"

Dante remained silent for a moment, his back turned to his partner, as she caught him reflecting. "I don't know, but I won't doubt it'll be our only encounter. He was good, Trish."

Her curiosity was raised. "How good?"

More silence followed, until she saw him turn to lock eyes, replying with a grin, "If I'm still here, not good enough."

They parted ways with those words, and the sound of his motorcycle cut though the silent town he called home.

As he rode off towards hi new destination, Dante thought back to the climax of the battle. He remembered little after the transformation, but there was something that occurred in his unconscious state that he couldn't shake out his mind. It was a disturbing white haze with smoke, crimson as blood, slowly forming within the unknown. The only sounds present were the breathing, roaring, or cheering of a million beings at once, each one felt as dark as the next. Though it was only the three days of nothingness, it felt longer for him. Maybe because it was, that Trish was lying to him for some unforeseen reason, that she sensed what he now sensed within him, and maybe didn't want him to fear the worse. Smiling, he shook off the accusations, as he revved the engine harder, trying not to mind a burning impression in back of him, and the world before him turn into what could be, if he's not saved, a perpetual darkness.

The Beginning…


End file.
